


I'll believe it all (I won't let go of your hand)

by Katterwaul



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ...you know what I'm not even gonna say it, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships, no beta we die like To-
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29815002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katterwaul/pseuds/Katterwaul
Summary: When Ranboo hears the news, his first thought is of Tubbo.  He snaps his head to look at the boy beside him, feels the air pressure drop like an oncoming storm.“What the hell happened?” Tubbo demands.  “Tommy’s dead?  He’s dead?”  Tubbo laughs and it’s loud and sharp in the silence.-or: watching your best friend lose his best friend
Relationships: Ranboo & Tubbo
Comments: 8
Kudos: 116





	I'll believe it all (I won't let go of your hand)

**Author's Note:**

> *kicks down the door* I HAVEN'T FINISHED A FIC SINCE NOVEMBER AND EVERY TIME I WRITE IT'S IN A FRENZY THE DAY AFTER A LORE STREAM
> 
> AM I THRIVING I THINK I'M THRIVING
> 
> title is from Two Birds by Regina Spektor but the vibe song for this is Somewhere Only We Know by Keane
> 
> content warnings: the fact that Tommy is dead, angst/grieving, an egregious number of similes
> 
> you're not allowed to read this till you get a drink of water uwu

When Ranboo hears the news, his first thought is of Tubbo. He snaps his head to look at the boy beside him, feels the air pressure drop like an oncoming storm. 

“What the hell happened?” Tubbo demands. “Tommy’s dead? He’s dead?” Tubbo laughs and it’s loud and sharp in the silence. 

And later: “Maybe it was all staged. Maybe he faked his death.” He pulls out his bow and shoots an arrow towards nothing, because Tubbo is a creature of perpetual motion. It’s one of Ranboo’s favorite things about him. Ranboo freezes a lot; he gets overwhelmed and just  _ stops _ but Tubbo is always there to help him unclench his fingers from his hair and remember how to walk again. Tubbo is still moving, walking towards the prison, and there’s no choice but to follow. He’d follow Tubbo anywhere, he thinks.

Sam’s silhouette appears at the mouth of the prison. Tubbo waves cheerily. Ranboo stands behind him, far enough to be respectful but close enough if he’s needed.

“Tubbo...I couldn’t get there in time.”

“Wait, so what are you saying exactly?”

“I’m saying that Tommy’s gone.”

“...That sucks.” 

It takes three strides to cover the distance between him and Tubbo--he spares a thought for the fact that it would have taken Tubbo at least six. They’re side by side now, shoulder to shoulder. He bumps his fingers against Tubbo’s; Tubbo grabs his hand and doesn’t let go. 

“Dream...actually killed him.”

“Can we kill Dream?” 

Tubbo laughs a little more. They ask questions that Sam doesn’t answer. He tells them that Tommy was beaten to death and Ranboo shudders but...can’t really believe it’s true. When Tubbo wanders aimlessly away from the prison--a creature of perpetual motion--Ranboo follows.

“There’s no way he’s  _ actually _ dead. I refuse to accept that.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it would have been cool, right? It wouldn’t have just been...getting beaten to death in a prison.” Ranboo is trying to hope, trying to help Tubbo hope, but he can’t escape the encroaching feeling that it’s all useless. It seeps into him like water on cloth, absorbing upwards despite gravity. Tommy’s not dead. The bright, loud boy he traded notes with in exile isn’t dead. The kid who took the fall for a wrong they’d both committed just so Ranboo wouldn’t be in trouble isn’t  _ dead _ . Tommy was too bright to burn out like that--sometimes it seemed like the whole world revolved around him. 

“Yeah, you know how the story works. Tommy’s not one to go out without a bang.”

Tubbo perches on the fence between the two hotels and kicks his legs. At this height, he’s  _ almost  _ taller than Ranboo. “What’s the first of the five stages of grief? Is it denial? ‘Cause if it is, that’s...that’s not good.” He vaults off the fence and paces down the path again. “What’s the second--denial, angerl, fucking crying? They go in that order, right?”

They wind up in the Church of Prime with Tubbo ringing the bell over and over again. His laughter blends with the bell until it’s all nothing but white noise. “It’s what Tommy would have wanted,” he says. Light filters through the stained-glass windows and stains his face with purple.

Ranboo sits in a pew and waits. His grief comes later; right now Tubbo needs him. He liked Tommy, but he didn’t know him like Tubbo does--did. He doesn’t have the shared history, the trust, baggage of wrongs that were never  _ quite  _ forgiven because they thought there’d be more time.

Jack Manifold peeks into the church, almost wary. “You good? You’re not at all...bothered?”

“No, I’m currently in denial. It hasn’t happened.” Tubbo grins and it looks tight around the edges.

“You plan on...  _ leaving  _ denial anytime soon?”

“Nope! Nope, I think I’m gonna stay here for a little while.”

Ranboo sits in a pew, legs long and gangly in front of him, and waits until Tubbo walks out of the church again.

Outside, Tubbo heaves a sigh. “I can feel the anger coming.”

Ranboo watches him carefully. “It’s fine, it’s fine, just gotta--”

“I’m not in shock,” Tubbo continues. “People just...react differently to getting bad news.” He laughs, keeps walking.

Tubbo needs to _ do something _ . Ranboo can read it in the clench of his fists, the hitch in his breathing. If he doesn’t have something else to focus on, he’ll fall apart. Ranboo thinks he knows Tubbo better than he knows himself sometimes--no matter what else he forgets, he’ll always remember how to speak the language that is Tubbo. He swears this boy is written on his soul sometimes. 

When they reach the Nether hub, Ranboo taps Tubbo on the shoulder, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. “Do you want to spar?”

Tubbo nods tightly and says nothing more as they move apart and slip into fighting stances on the blackstone. Tubbo is the first to move, lunging forward and aiming a fist at his side, under his guard--the height difference makes this interesting. Ranboo darts to the side to avoid it and doesn’t attack back. 

Undeterred, Tubbo lets his momentum carry him into a spin-kick that makes bruising contact with the back of Ranboo’s knees. Tubbo always goes for the legs when they spar--they’re an easy target. Ranboo takes the hit, barely manages to stay on his feet, and doesn’t attack back.

He whips around to face Tubbo again only to be met with a brown-and-green blur darting towards him, trying to slam an elbow into his gut. He catches Tubbo’s arm, shoves him away, and doesn’t attack back. 

They continue like that. Tubbo has his teeth bared and his fighting style gets sloppier, feral and raw, until Ranboo is blocking every punch that’s thrown at him. Eventually, it cools to this: Tubbo straining, scrabbling, trying to hit. Ranboo gently holding his wrists, keeping them a foot apart. The fight drains out of him slowly and Ranboo releases his grasp, letting Tubbo slump forward and bury his head in Ranboo’s chest. Ranboo wraps his arms around Tubbo’s back and holds him as he beats a fist weakly against Ranboo’s sternum. Ranboo feels his shoulders shake as the tears finally come.

_ Denial, anger, fucking cry. _

“I’m just so tired,” he says, muffled in Ranboo’s button-up shirt. A creature of perpetual motion, drained.

“I know,” Ranboo murmurs back. The tears soaking through his shirt sting on his skin, but he ignores it. “Let’s get you home, bee boy. Is that okay?” He feels the head on his chest shift as Tubbo nods.

Wordlessly, Ranboo steps back, turns, and kneels down. Wordlessly, Tubbo climbs on his back and slings his arms around Ranboo’s neck. Wordlessly, Ranboo carries them both through the Nether portal. 

Wordlessly, they go home.

Home is Snowchester at the moment, but they make a detour to Ranboo’s house. Ranboo grabs what he’ll need to stay over for the night--neither of them want to be alone right now--and Tubbo picks up Michael and thanks Phil for babysitting. They can tell by the look on Phil’s face that he’s already heard the news, but they don’t talk about it.

Tubbo walks the rest of the way home, clutching Michael like a lifeline. Michael snorts anxiously, his one ear swiveling back and forth as he takes in his surroundings. Ranboo wraps an arm around Tubbo’s shoulders and stays close to both of them.

Snowchester is cold (as always) and dark. They dodge the overgrown berry bushes and potato plants that Tubbo keeps saying he’s going to clear off the path eventually, making their way towards the house. Inside, Tubbo sets Michael down in his playpen and Ranboo feels something in his chest unwind a little. His boys are home. They’re safe.

Tubbo only has one life left as well. That could have easily been him instead.

Ranboo bakes them all potatoes for dinner (unlike Tubbo, he can do  _ that _ at least without starting a house fire). He hears Tubbo singing a lullaby to Michael in the other room as he tucks him in, something about bees and sunlight. He knows Michael’s asleep when he feels Tubbo’s head thump against his back, seeking comfort. 

“Hey, Ranboo.”

“Hey, Tubbo.”

“I wanna cry. I can’t cry. It’s all just...numb. Is that supposed to happen?”

It strikes Ranboo just how  _ young _ they both are. They’re kids. They shouldn’t be dealing with this. It’s not  _ fair _ .

Their lives have never been fair.

Tommy’s never was. 

Ranboo inhales sharply, blinks his eyes to keep tears from falling. Tubbo doesn’t need to help him treat water burns tonight. He turns around, guides them both to bed--two twin beds, pushed together so they can cuddle. He murmurs in Ender as Tubbo drifts off, nonsense and stories and nursery rhymes he can’t even remember where he learned. Tubbo can’t fall asleep without white noise. 

Tubbo’s hair is teal to his inverted night vision, spread across the pillow and tangled because he fell asleep without brushing it. His eyes are puffy, tear tracks left across his blue-black skin. He’s a mess, they both are, but Ranboo’s grief will wait till tomorrow. For tonight, he holds his platonic husband close and lets sleep overtake him.

Two creatures of perpetual motion, briefly at rest.

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell I'm a Ranboo simp and I'm a sucker for their dynamic because I think I did a pretty good job of hiding it /s
> 
> anyway thank you for reading and thank you Ranboo for proving me right by continuously talking about taking care of Tubbo in your lore stream tonight
> 
> have you finished your water yet? uwu
> 
> stay safe! <3


End file.
